“Save me a seat” wasn’t something I ever said, because there wasn’t anyone to say it to. For most of my life, I’ve been sitting in chairs at tables I wasn’t invited to. There was no one saving me a spot.
I wasn’t invited. I wasn’t expected. And if I’m honest, I wasn’t welcomed.
But I showed up anyway, unwelcome and uninvited. Why? Because I knew I had something to offer the people at that table if they’d just listen.
For years, I shrank. I showed up but didn’t speak up. I sat quietly, unsure if I belonged, knowing I had something to say but holding it in. It took me years to finally show up and stop shrinking.
I spent over a decade working for Scouting America, and let me tell you, that was a ride. A male-dominated world of middle-aged men, the epitome of a good ol’ boys club. There I was, a woman navigating a space built by and for men.
I sat in boardrooms where I was the only one in heels.
The only one asking the hard questions, the messy questions.
The only one not part of the club.
At first, I tried to fit in. Smile nice. Stay small. Be grateful just to be there. I sat still and looked pretty, because that’s what women are expected to do. That, or take the minutes at the meeting (which I vehemently refused to do from day one).
But squeezing myself into someone else’s mold? That got old fast.
It’s exhausting.
Now? I don’t ask.
I Take Up Space.
I walk in—me, my red heels, my full self—bold, loud, real, and yes, a little (okay, maybe a lot) sassy.
I speak up for others when it’s uncomfortable.
I question the unquestionable.
I challenge the status quo with a smile, a dash of truth, and just enough sass and sparkle to remind the room exactly who they’re dealing with, The Barb Perez.
